


In Touch

by Jackjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackjunkie/pseuds/Jackjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel's propensity for touching gets him in trouble again--and then gets the team out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Foundations 3

What really gets me about Daniel getting hurt is it was all my idea.

Oh, not for him to get hurt. He’s got that covered all on his own. No, I’ve about got it calculated that a good sixty-five percent of my job is dedicated to keeping the archaeologist safe if not sound. In fact, with three of us pretty much making it one of our top priorities on every mission, it’s a mystery to me how he ever managed to survive all the little daily perils of his life intact before he met us—things like digs in remote regions with political unrest, tomb robbers, tropical diseases, or climbing the stairs in those ivory tower college libraries. He must’ve logged some serious medical time in foreign hospitals and campus infirmaries that he just hasn’t ‘fessed up about.

So I don’t sit around thinking up new ways for Daniel to get hurt. Doc Fraiser doesn’t need me to drum up business for her with him. It’s not like he goes long stretches between bouts as her patient. But I forgot to keep the whole Daniel-Jackson-has-a-greater-propensity-for-being-injured-than-your-average-run-of-the-mill-Evel-Knievel-style-daredevil factor in mind as part of the equation in an otherwise seemingly harmless situation.

Big mistake, O’Neill.

After watching over him like a mama hawk protecting her eggs from a regiment of Horus guards the whole time he was in those ruins— _Don’t touch this, Daniel; don’t touch that, Daniel_ —wondering every minute what freaking, dangerous alien device he was going to set off this time and knowing damn well to keep my guard up till we’re back through the gate and then some, it never occurred to me to warn him not to touch a pretty, shiny seashell.

It was my idea to drag him out of that dark, musty place where he’d been working for hours. He was perfectly happy there, nice and safe surrounded by sturdy stone walls, contentedly reading his squiggles.

“Jack, this is really interesting. The Ruheri people incorporated a tactile element into their writing. Combined with the glyphs it changes the meaning of words, the way tonal variations do in some languages’ speech patterns. This is very unusual, and it could signify…”

Yadda.

I let the linguistspeak wash over me, keeping half an ear tuned for anything of command significance—meaning anything military or concerning my team’s safety on this planet as opposed to historical or cultural matters involving long-dead aliens, the value of which I do recognize, believe me. I’ve had it demonstrated to me over and over; it’s just not part of my immediate need-to-know. After all, that’s what we have scientists on the teams for. So I let Daniel do his thing, while Teal’c was outside watching Carter do hers.

Eventually, though, I had to interrupt him. I can only take so much of being cooped up indoors, so it stands to reason it can’t be healthy for Daniel either. I mean, the guy wouldn’t stop working to eat or sleep if the rest of us didn’t keep track of that for him, so he can’t be expected to notice when he needs other basic human necessities like fresh air and exercise.

“Daniel! Break time.”

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up from his videotaping.

“Time to take a break, get some fresh air, go for a walk on the beach.”

Lowering the camera he ran his hand along the wall. “Sure, Jack, just let me finish this section first.” He made a notation in his book.

Oh no. I know how that goes. We wouldn’t have gotten out of there until he finished the whole building. I tapped him on the shoulder. “Now, Daniel. You can come back and play some more later. I promise.”

So I had to coax him out (despite what Teal’c claims, I do **not** bully Daniel—Teal’c still has a little trouble with slang terms, no matter how I try my best to teach him) for his own good, but before long we were walking along the nearby shore and breathing the healthy salt air.

“See, Daniel, isn’t it relaxing, all this sun and sand and surf?” I nudged his arm as I waved to encompass the postcard scenery.

All he’d admit was that it wasn’t a half-bad suggestion, but I could tell from his smile and the way he stopped casting longing looks back towards the ruins that he was enjoying it, too, living in the moment, letting the sunshine ease the kinks in his muscles and the breeze ruffle his short hair.

Of course as soon as he saw the unusual shell, gleaming purple against the pale pink sand, he had to pick it up to get a closer look. He turned it around, running his hands over its curving shape. Abruptly he dropped it with a yell and jammed his finger in his mouth. His look of alarm increased, and he yanked it right out again. It was already red and swollen. More reddening blotches appeared on his hand and arm. Coughing and spitting, Daniel began to hyperventilate. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the sand.

“Daniel, calm down. Take it easy. Breathe.”

He tried but was clearly having difficulty getting enough air. “Throat… swelling. Sting.”

“Sting?” Pretty sure he wasn’t asking for a chorus of _Every Breath You Take_ , I glanced at the shell doubtfully. “You mean like a jellyfish? Or a bee sting?” Shit! If that slug injected some kind of venom into Daniel, he could be going into anaphylactic shock. I ripped open my first aid kit and administered a shot of epinephrine.

I rubbed Daniel’s back as his breathing slowly eased. The shot was taking care of the immediate reaction, but we still needed to get him home to medical attention ASAP. No telling what other effects the gunk from that alien chicken of the sea had.

When he felt steady enough, I helped him to his feet. We rounded up Carter and Teal’c and started back for the gate as soon as we’d nabbed the shell—carefully—to take back for Fraiser to examine. With Teal’c on point and Carter watching our six, I wrapped an arm around Daniel’s waist to help him stay upright. He managed to walk but was plainly feeling a little woozy from the pain throbbing up from the point of the sting through his left arm.

We still had a ways to go before we reached the Stargate when Teal’c called a halt. Lowering Daniel to the grassy turf, I uncapped his canteen and admonished him to rest while I conferred with Teal’c and Carter near one of a pair of stone columns covered in Goa’uld glyphs. I remembered passing them on our way in, but we hadn’t paid them much attention apart from a quick vidcam scan by Daniel since our objective was the site of the abandoned ruins surveyed by the UAV. Now Teal’c gestured with his staff weapon to the rows of faded paint.

“I believe this is a shortcut to the Stargate, O’Neill. The Goa’uld writing indicates we may do better to follow this old path.”

I looked appraisingly at the narrow trail leading off the well-worn main track where we’d been walking. It was overgrown with grass and weeds, hemmed in by the trees and shrubbery encroaching closely on either side, and there was at least one large branch within sight that had fallen across it.

Carter pursed her lips. “Evidently it hasn’t been used in a long time, sir. The terrain’s slow going might lose us any edge we’d gain from the shorter distance.”

I was weighing the options presented by their conflicting advice when Teal’c offered a suggestion.

“We could scout a short way up the path while Daniel Jackson rests. A more comprehensive view would enable us to better determine the superior route.”

“Good thinking, T.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll be right back, Daniel.”

I led the way over the weed-choked ground. We hadn’t gone very far, maybe about halfway to the fallen branch, when a shout from Daniel jerked us to a halt.

“Come back! Jack! It’s a trap! Sam, Teal’c!”

“Retreat.” I barked the order unhesitatingly as I did a swift about-face and herded my team ahead of me back the way we’d come.

We made it almost to the pillars when the world exploded behind us.

I heard the boom an instant before the ground shook beneath my running feet. The force of expanding heated air punched me in the back as I dove into the standard hug-the-ground-shield-the-head-and-hope-like-hell-the-dirt-raining-down-on-us-doesn’t-contain-any-shrapnel formation. It didn’t, but since I was concentrating on covering the back of my head exposed to the fallout, I neglected to avoid slashing my forehead against a sharp rock concealed in the patch of weeds where I landed. This mission was turning into one big headache.

Pushing myself to my feet, I watched Teal’c give Carter a hand up. “Everybody okay?”

“I am unharmed, O’Neill.”

“Fine, sir.” Carter brushed some leaves out of her hair. “I sort of landed on Teal’c.”

_Better than the other way around._ I shuddered at the mental image of the major squashed flat under a couple of hundred pounds of falling Jaffa. So that left the fourth member of our team. Was Daniel okay?

What had prompted him to call us out of there? I’d reacted on the trust we’d built as a team to act on one another’s word, but now I wanted to know what was behind it. Looking toward the spot where we’d left Daniel sitting, I saw him lightly tracing his fingers across the surface of a pillar he was leaning against.

“Dammit, Daniel!” I strode towards him, firing off words like bullets as I approached. “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch alien doohickeys? And after what already happened on the beach! What did you set off this time? Is that stone some kind of landmine detonator?”

“No, it’s okay, Jack. It’s a warning, not a trigger.” He looked up, and his eyebrows drew into a frown. “You’re bleeding.” He reached out a tentative finger, pointing at my wound.

“It’s nothing.” I dabbed at the slight smear of blood that was already growing sticky. If that was the only casualty from the blast, we got off lucky. Thankfully, Daniel had been out of range. The only one of us not spattered with dirt, he showed no signs of fresh injury. “What was that about a warning?”

Daniel turned back to the pillar and once more smoothed his shaking hand over the stone. “There’s Ruheri writing hidden amongst the Goa’uld glyphs.”

“I saw no other writing, Daniel Jackson.” Teal’c looked perplexed. Well, okay, he tilted his head a fraction and blinked. The big guy has a whole range of expressions; you gotta know how to interpret them is all. I may not be able to read alien alphabets, but I can read people.

“No, you wouldn’t, Teal’c, because it’s not meant to be seen. It’s meant to be felt.” Daniel demonstrated excitedly. “There are depressions in the stone here, and here, and here. They’re not random; they form a precise pattern. You remember, Jack, I told you how the native Ruheri people used this technique to vary the meaning of their own glyphs.”

“Oh, ah, sure.” It did sound vaguely similar to something he’d mentioned earlier.

“It looks like they applied the same system to the Goa’uld glyphs on this column. If you read only the Goa’uld, it’s simply a signpost for a shortcut to the gate, as Teal’c said. But if you take into account the Ruheri additions, it turns into a warning to beware the trap set for the stealers of souls.”

“So it’s a snakehead ambush.” Reaching out to the stone, I fit my fingers into the indentations Daniel had indicated.

“It makes sense, sir. Any invading Goa’uld or Jaffa would be lured into the trap without ever seeing the red flag there to keep the inhabitants away.” Carter smiled as she looked the stone up and down. “I wonder if there are more of these on the planet.”

“We’ll stick to the route we took to get here, to make sure we don’t run across any more stray booby traps.” If Daniel hadn’t called us back when he did, it’d have been Humpty Dumpty time for sure. Way too many pieces to put back together again. Daniel had saved our collective butts. I took in the way our valiant linguist was again leaning against the pillar like he’d be flat on his own butt if it wasn’t for the support. “Move out. Time to get you home, Dannyboy.” As he straightened, I slipped his arm across my shoulders, conveying “good job” through a quick squeeze.

We trekked back to the gate the long way round, but at least there were no more surprises. And people wonder why I don’t like surprises. Too many nasty ones in my profession.

As soon as we were back at the SGC, Doc took over. Teal’c and Carter checked out fine, I got handed over to a nurse to have my cut closed with one of those bug bandage thingies—butterfly, that’s it, sure beats stitches—while Fraiser worked her stock in trade on Daniel. Test him, test the shellfish, stick a needle here, draw some blood there, whip up a cure for whatever new alien-disease-of-the-week ails us. Okay, I know it’s a lot more complicated than that, but what all the scientific gobbledygook comes down to is the doc knows her stuff and somehow keeps battin’ ‘em out of the park. No matter what we throw at her, she always manages to get us out of her infirmary beds and back up on our sorry feet to go out and collect a new batch of offworld germs for her to play with.

So I knew Daniel was in the best of hands—but still he shouldn’t have had to be there at all. Like I said, it was all my idea to take him to the beach, and just because it looked like a resort playground was no reason to let him actually handle the toys without checking them out first. At the same time, his hands on approach to that stone pillar had brought my team home safely.

Ending a mission any other way is simply not an option. I will not lose any of them as long as I can tap dance my way from plan to plan until I make one work. I couldn’t leave Carter behind that force field when we had those fancy armbands. I couldn’t let Teal’c stay with the enemy when Apophis brainwashed him. So how in hell can I watch Daniel keep taking chances and getting hurt over and over until one day his curiosity gets him killed? Permanently, that is.

But how can I muzzle that curiosity? Daniel being Daniel is one of the most important reasons for the stellar success record of SG-1. Briefly I contemplate handcuffs, then sigh with regret. It wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t use his hands. He’d figure out some other way to connect. With his words, his hands, his eyes, his whole body, Daniel communicates. It’s what he does. And as often as that communication gets us into trouble, it’s more than made up for by all the times it gets us out. All I can do is continue to guard against the danger his Danielness gets him into.

Maybe I can reallocate my job duties and up that share to seventy percent. I can always take it out of the portion I devote to smart-mouthing the brass. I must have enough of that in the bank to last me till retirement.

When Fraiser finally lets me in to see him, he looks okay, if still a bit tired. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He smiles and gives a small wave of greeting.

“How’s the hand?”

“Fine. Janet just wants me to stay here to rest and to keep me under observation.”

“The usual drill.”

“Mm hm. How’s the cut?”

I raise my hand to the bandage. “Oh, just enough to look dashing and heroic.”

Daniel rolls his eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Okay, I’ll settle for dashing since the hero role was already taken today anyway.” I grip his shoulder as my tone turns serious. “Thanks.”

He ducks his head and flushes like a lobster thrown into the pot. “Just doing my job.” The mumbled words are barely audible.

“I know, but thanks for doing it so well.” Seeing his embarrassment, and being the tactful guy I am—and no more at ease with this touchy-feely talk than Daniel—I drop it and change the subject. “I’m going to head on home. Can I get you anything before I leave the base? You missed the scheduled infirmary dinnertime, but I could bring you something from the commissary.”

“I am a little hungry.”

“Doc said you could have some soup. I’ll get you a bowl.”

“Do you know what they’re serving today?”

“Clam chowder.”

“Aagh.” He leans back against the pillows and closes his eyes.

“What?”

The blue eyes reopen as he shakes his head. “Never mind. Bring it on. I’ll look at it as getting some of my own back.”

Grinning I give his hair a tousle and start to walk out of the room. “Oh, and, Daniel? From now on, go ahead and touch stuff anytime you want to.” I pop my head back in the door. “Except when I order you not to, of course.”

THE END


End file.
